


The Best Is Yet To Come

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode: s07e15 Badda-Bing Badda-Bang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: During their usual lunch in the replimat, Julian tells Garak about his most recent adventure in the holosuite. At least, that's what he thinks they're talking about.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 115





	The Best Is Yet To Come

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the song sung by Vic Fontaine and Captain Sisko at the end of the episode

“… And then Zeemo led Frankie Eyes out of the casino, with no idea all the money was still in the garbage cans just outside!” Julian flung his arm out to punctuate his point, his fork narrowly missing the Bolian at the next table.

“What a thrilling adventure,” Garak remarked dryly. Julian, still starry-eyed from his escapade, seemed to miss the sarcasm. “I think it’s rather extraordinary, doctor, that you didn’t think to invite me.”

That brought Julian back to reality. He blinked a couple of times and put his fork back on his plate.

“You?”

“Well, yes. You have to admit I have some acquired some skills which would be useful in such a… what did you call it? A heist?”

“But you don’t like Vic’s,” Julian pointed out. He furrowed his brow, trying to think of a single time Garak had visited the lounge. The invitation had certainly been issued; Julian was sensitive to Garak’s isolation and careful to include him when it was practical and appropriate to do so (and when he thought Garak would say yes, which was admittedly not often).

“It is true that I’m not interested in inane representations of your earth history.”

“Come to think of it, you don’t like the holosuites at all. The only time you’ve shown any interest was in my spy program- and that was only because I didn’t want you to.”

Garak smiled and reached up to adjust his collar. The movement might have been innocent, at any other moment, but Julian was keenly aware that Garak’s fingers brushed the spot on his neck where ‘Agent Bashir’ had shot him.

“You know how _tantalizing_ I find a good secret.”

Julian tried to ignore the emphasis that Garak placed on that word ( _did it have the same connotations in Cardassian?_ ) and to focus on the matter at hand.

“So why are you upset that I didn’t invite you?”

“Upset is a strong word. I’m merely surprised you didn’t seek the advantage of my expertise, at least in the planning stages.”

Garak’s face was pleasant, but the condescension in his tone grated all the same. As if Julian was too naive and incompetent to pull off such a complicated caper without assistance. (He had had help, of course, the whole team had planned it together, but the implication still stung.)

“Oh, I can imagine what your advice would have been. ‘Trust no one, say nothing, and when in doubt, assassinate.’ Have I got it right?”

“Close. Saying nothing is suspicious. Instead, I would say to lie.”

“Of course you would.” _You never do anything else_.

Julian looked down at his meal and took a sip of sweetened Tarkalean tea, feeling surprisingly dour. He enjoyed quarreling with Garak- it was often the highlight of his week- but he had been sincerely excited to share the tale of stealing millions from a mobster to save a friend. Garak’s reaction was decidedly disappointing, although Julian wouldn’t admit to himself what kind of reaction he had been hoping for.

“I also will note that you have no proof I’ve ever assassinated anyone,” Garak commented blithely. Julian snorted.

“Odo thinks you were involved in the death of a Romulan proconsul.” In fact, Odo thought Garak had been involved in a number of of murders, but that one was the highest-profile.

“Mere supposition,” Garak said dismissively. “At the time, I was nothing but a humble gardener.”

Julian leaned in, interested in spite of himself. Even when he was annoyed, he couldn’t resist prodding for the hidden details of his friend’s past.

“Tell me something, Garak. You advised me never to tell the same lie twice. But you’ve never varied in claiming to be a gardener on Romulus.”

“Perhaps that’s because it’s the truth.” Garak paused, carefully watching Julian’s face. “Or perhaps that’s the difference between a lie and a cover story.”

“Aha!” Julian pointed a triumphant finger at his conversation partner. “So you admit you’re covering up for something.”

“I said nothing of the kind. I was simply speculating on a semantic difference.”

Julian sighed and shook his head. Infuriating. That’s what Garak was, simply infuriating. Still, there was nowhere else he would rather be than sitting in the replimat with Garak, feeling infuriated.

After the heist, his first impulse had been to tell Garak about it. It was natural to want to share good news with a good friend.

Maybe the issue was one of plain old jealousy. It was a normal human experience- or rather, _humanoid_. Whether or not Garak would admit it, maybe he did feel left out.

“I suppose I should have invited you after all,” Julian relented. “You’re very good at distracting people and getting into places you shouldn’t be. Maybe you would even have cracked the safe faster than Nog did.”

Garak’s eyes gleamed.

“My dear doctor, I think you’ll find I’m very good at lock-picking. It simply requires _dexterous_ fingers.” He reached out and laid a hand on Julian’s arm. “You’d be surprised what I can do with my hands.”

The touch was over too soon, and it was only once Garak had pulled his hand away that Julian realized he had been holding his breath.

The next sip of Tarkalean tea cured the doctor’s dry mouth, but not his suddenly racing heart. _Don’t be ridiculous_ , Julian told himself sternly. _You’re reading too far into it_.

Garak’s face was serene, and impossible to read.

“You’ll have to show me some time,” Julian said faintly.

Garak’s smile widened.

“I intend to.”

“In another heist, you mean?”

“Of course, what else?”

The trouble with Garak was that he never said he what he meant, and he always meant rather more than what he said. If Julian replayed the conversation in his mind, the statements were all innocuous. Yet Garak was hardly the type to announce, “ _Just to spare you from guessing, I’ve decided to start flirting with you now_.”

Julian thought about what Miles had once told him, after an awkward encounter with a Cardassian scientist visiting the station. “ _The Cardies flirt by arguing_.” Julian had meant to ask Garak about it, but then changed his mind at the last minute (and steadfastly refused to think about _why_ he had lost his nerve).

“Would you like to come with me to Vic’s Lounge?” Julian asked slowly.

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but don’t you have a regular shift in the infirmary after our lunch? I would hate to distract the station’s Chief Medical Officer from his duties.”

“Not right now, Garak. Later.” Julian squared his shoulders. “What about tonight at 1900 hours?”

Garak looked Julian up and down appraisingly.

“If you wear your tuxedo, and not that awful uniform, we have a deal. The tuxedo is much more... flattering.”

That was exactly the kind of statement that drove Julian to distraction. It could have been simply a tailor’s strong opinion about Starfleet’s taste in clothing… or it could have been a very targeted remark about the body _under_ the clothing.

“Then we have a date,” Julian said, wondering if the connotations of the last word would translate.

Garak grinned.

“My dear doctor, I certainly hope so.”


End file.
